


Adenium

by erisantic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Tom Riddle, Casinos, F/M, Family, Friendship, Good Tom Riddle, Harry is a Little Shit, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mob boss Tom Riddle, Past Child Abuse, Rivalry, Romance, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Slow Burn, Unnaturally Lucky Harry, love that tag, mafia, mostly - Freeform, some - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-02 13:49:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8670088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erisantic/pseuds/erisantic
Summary: Harry Potter, a man with unusual luck, finds himself working as a maid to pay off his uncle's debt. The only worse thing is that he's working for the mafia family that runs the town, and subsequently, Don Tom Riddle. He soon rises to become an actual mafioso and make a few good friends. Though he finds there may be more to life than survival, an upstart rival gang, and a strange prophecy threaten the safety of the family. Can Harry and Tom find love and understanding through the boss' challenging past and present, or will the future be cut short?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, good ol' Tomarry. This is actually the only story I've ever planned out on (digital) paper, instead of in my head, so hopefully that will make it easier to update. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

They called this an oasis.

There was a story about it. About death, luck, and a man who founded this town in the desert. Peverell, they called him. But this isn't that story, and it would hardly matter to someone who is not a citizen. Maybe we'll get to it another time. For now, remember the town. This present day, it has grown from that story long ago.

Just off Route 77 (the only highway in the Red Desert), nestled above underground caves flowing with precious water, lay the city of La Rosa. Hardly a rose that smelled sweet. The air itself was mostly smog and cigarette smoke. It was a place filled with black and grey buildings, casting shadows on the narrow streets and shady dealings. It was the only area you could get a drink for miles around.

You'd more likely find cheap alcohol than the water our town is known for.

People move here for the adventure. For the passionate romance of the desert. They stay for the gambling and free-flowing alcohol.

Isolated, it was a city that created business on it's own. Making money using smoky casinos and hazardous factory work; both leeching off the young and unfortunate. When the people were finally busted and down on their luck from gambling away money, the sharks swooped in. Drawn in by the smell of fresh desperation to offer a loan of money no one is ever able to repay without sacrifice. Life's savings or anything else of value they own is given over to the mafia.

Then, the people march back to work in the dangerous factories wearing oil-stained overalls. Risking machine accidents just to get by. Find a promotion to work somewhere else, and the cycle repeats. It was a dirty place, both in its streets and in its practices.

If this was an oasis, it was tainted with grime and overflowing with spent blood.

There used to be four _familia_ that ran the behind the scenes, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and _Slytherin_. The first two died out long before this generation, placed their cards on the wrong tables. Only recently, five years ago, did Gryffindor surrender itself to Slytherin. Those who knew about the mob, but weren't _in the know_ , could only speculate on how this was done. The most popular theory involved double agents and blackmail. Not that the true reason would ever make it past Slytherin's headquarters.

One thing was for sure, a single man alone ruled this desert city. One man was _responsible_.

But that's not who we meet first. No, that man is much too dangerous.

Harry Potter on the other hand, now he could hardly break more than a nose. He was a young man, nearly twenty years of age. Straight backed, but scrawny, covered in dust and dirt from factory work. Living with hateful relatives and scraping up sickles off the street to save up for train ticket out of the city. The only thing that stood out about him were his bright green - almost luminescent - almond shaped eyes. You should keep in mind though, Harry Potter is very special. He is the reason we have this very story, after all. Since we've begun, let me tell you the whole thing. From the start…


	2. Chapter 2

Harry turned his sooty face to the sky, squinting at the smog. He wondered if he would ever escape this dreary city and the cloud that covered it. Tickets weren't that expensive, but most of his earnings went to room and board, and whatever other fees his uncle could come up with. He had nowhere else to run to, in a city as unsafe as this. He only needed to survive.

Sighing, he adjusted the rag he'd tied around his forehead to catch sweat. His black hair hung down in sticky, stringy, unruly strands. It was the end of his shift at the Grunnings factory, which his uncle managed and had left early from.

Time to start the long trek back to the Dursley's house on the outskirts of the city. Not a place he wanted to go back to. His feet were already aching, and a less than welcoming greeting awaited him. Brushing what black coal dust he could off his factory issued overalls and shirt, he walked into the dusk.

Reaching the street lamp that marked Privet Drive, Harry noticed the quiet. It was an all consuming, suffocating thing. Usually the street was full of the faint noise from kitchens as families ate dinner or the soft drolling sounds of an old record player. Nothing of the sort tonight. The lights in the thin row of uniform houses were out black. All, except one, the fourth down the lane. Unusual, but Harry took it in stride.

Number 4 Privet Drive, home to Mr. and Mrs. Dursley and their son Dudley. Mrs. Dursley was Harry's blood related aunt, and she always had fits when he came home dirty. Made him clean the whole house on his day off. But Harry's last set of non-work clothes to change into had ripped last night in his nightmare thrashing. He had yet to sew them up and he couldn't go running around indecent. No avoiding chores today.

So, Harry snuck around the fences that guarded the gardens from coyotes and jackrabbits. He nimbly climbed the one behind the Dursleys and jumped over his aunt's azaleas. The back door was unlocked for him to sneak through, like always.

What was not common, were the two faces greeting him when he popped the door open. They were similar enough to be brothers, two large muscular men with red hair and black suits. One had his locks tied back in a ponytail, showing off the glinting jewelry on his ear. The other, who had shorter hair, grabbed Harry before he could examine further.

"This the one?" Short Hair asked as he swung Harry around with no effort, leaving him facing his uncle and a very blonde man with a cane.

"Y-yes, that's him." Vernon Dursley said.

Harry had never seen his uncle so scared in his life. Angry, sure, regularly, but never shaking in fear. He watched the blonde man look him up and down. Disgust clearly showed on his face. Harry scowled and shook in the grip around his middle. The short haired man had to bend a little to get a good grip on him.

"He'll do." The blonde man said, he held out a hand to Harry's uncle who shook it thoroughly. The look of disgust never wavered and the man wiped his hand off on his expensive suit afterwards. "Pleasure to do business with you, Mr. Dursley. Your debt is repaid."

Harry figured it out as he was being dragged out the door. He managed to yell at his uncle before the door slammed shut.

"YOU SOLD ME TO THE MAFIA?!"

Harry knew he was disliked by his relatives, but he never thought they would do such a thing. His blood aunt didn't even show her face as he was being dragged into the awaiting limousine. Harry had never seen such an automobile in his life. Yet, he was too busy wiggling around to appreciate it. His captor had a vice grip.

"Don't struggle, you'll make it harder." The man holding him scolded while trying to pack him into the car.

Harry bit his hand.

"Ouch!" The man yelled, but he didn't stop shoving Harry into the car. "Lil' help here Bill. Hey don't kick! Cool down, shorty!"

Harry fought harder as the other man, the one with the ponytail, came to help his look-alike. The two of the managed to contain him enough to climb in themselves and close the door. They sat on either side of him, while the blonde man sat across.

"Got us a feisty one there. Ey bill?" Charlie asked as he sent a wink to a glaring Harry. Bill only replied with a blank face. The kidnapped young man himself was contemplating how to dive over the red heads flanking him and reach the door.

"No use now, kiddo." Charlie said as if he sensed what he was thinking. "Ya can't get in or out of Riddle Manor without the Boss' order."

"Do quit fraternizing with the token, Weasley." The blonde man, who had thus far been silent, turned to them with a disapproving frown. Harry scoffed at being called such and was given a hit on the hand from the man's cane. Charlie ducked his head, but sent Harry a small smile when the man was no longer looking.

The drive took an age. Harry knew that Riddle Manor was a ways away, but geez. He felt adrenaline seeping out of him leaving only the exhaustion from a long day's work and a stressful ordeal. His eyes were drooping once the car finally rolled to a stop. Charlie nudged his shoulder to bring him back to alertness. He led Harry out of the car and through a door.

It was too dark to see much, but Harry could tell the mansion was king-sized. This wasn't even the front entrance, but it was guarded by a tall man who nodded at Charlie as he passed. They walked through a twist of halls, too many for Harry to map out.

Many people passed by, all in crisp suits with grim expressions, but the blonde man leading them stopped for no one until they reached a wide hall. The man walking through there was average height, gaunt face, with a large crooked nose and greasy dark hair.

"Severus!" The blonde man called a greeting. The other stopped short and faced their little party.

"Lucius." Severus said back, clearly not happy at being interrupted.

"I've just acquired an addition to the help. Do show him around, would you?"

Severus crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at Lucius. Harry was sure the blonde man might melt on the spot. Lucius seemed unbothered, however.

"Do I look like the head maid to you?"

"No, but she is busy."

Severus rolled his eyes and let out a mocking laugh. He started to pace and rant right there in the hallway.

"So am I Lucius. In fact, as the consigliere, I have far more important duties to attend to. Dragging around a dirty half-dead servant boy is not in the books!" He embellished the words with a dramatic flourish of hands in Harry's direction. Harry, who, now stood slumped against Charlie in his tired state.

"This does not change the fact that you lost poker last Sunday and owe a favor. I intend to have you suffer for it." Lucius said, the happiest Harry had seen him all night. The crudeness of his cruel words made him even more wary of the blonde man.

Severus let of a growl and took Harry from Charlie's grip. His nails dug into Harry's arm as he squeezed in unnecessarily hard. The consigliere was the designated second-in-command adviser, so Harry intended not to piss him off. Lest he get iced the next day. The thought of his body, lying in some dumpster dead, was enough to make his survival instincts hum under his skin.

"Ta-ta, Severus." Lucius called as he exited the hall with the two redheads.

"You will address me as Sir. Is that clear?" Severus hissed into his ear as the zoomed through the halls.

"Yes." Harry said adding a "sir" when the grip around his arm tightened.

"That goes for anyone else above your station." He continued, only adding on sourly at Harry's bewildered look. "That's everyone except the other maids. Except for the head maid, though you'll find nothing respectable there."

They seemed to be traveling downward into the unknown depths of the mansion. Harry counted two floors before they came to a stop. Once they were underground, things started to look a great deal less fancy, and Harry realized this must be the servants quarters. He wondered if he'd ever find his way around this hell hole. Or if he'd ever get out.

Severus pushed him into a small room, with a bed and a plain wooden armoire. It was a great deal nicer than the Dursley's too-small cot at least. Severus gestured around with a glower. Harry was starting to think it was a permanent fixture on the man's face.

"Clean clothes are in there." A point at the armoire. "Communal shower down the hall. You will work here until your debt is repaid. Be up at 6 o'clock sharp to receive orders from your superior, Ms. Luna. Goodnight."

Before Harry could bother mentioning that it wasn't _his_ debt, the door was slammed in his face for the second time that night. He stood in the middle of the simple room with a dumb look on his face, just taking it all in. His legs moved on his own to carry him down the hall.

Severus hadn't told him which door the showers were behind, something Harry was sure he'd done on purpose. But he guessed it on the second try (the other was a linen closet). Washing away the black dust, Harry couldn't bring his tired mind to think. He was sure he'd freak out about this in the morning. Bundling up his old clothes, he marveled at the clean and new fell of the set he now wore.

Practical black slacks and a light blue shirt. The fit was a bit too big, but Harry was sure he could tailor them. He had made Dudley's old cast offs fit for nineteen years. The fat boy wore the fabric down so thin, Harry had to learn sewing out of necessity due to rips and tears. After many pin pricks and trips to the store for thread, he knew enough to get by. Though he would never possess the precise hand for complicated needlework.

Once he got back to his designated room and curled up under the white sheets, he couldn't help but think that nothing had changed. He still worked unfavorable jobs under people who hated him. Really, the situation might be nicer. Cleanliness and lack of factory smoke in his lungs may allow him to live longer. Not to mention the protection from the mob. Maybe by the time he was out, he wouldn't have reason to leave. But that was a stupid notion, Harry thought. With his brain slowing down, Harry Potter fell into a restful sleep under a mansion full of mobsters.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey mate?"

The words drifted through Harry's dreams. Someone shook lightly at his shoulder and Harry buried his face in his pillow with a groan. A thin stripe of drool slid across his face as he struggled to stay asleep. He'd have to get up for work soon. Uncle Vernon was likely to start yelling at him any second now. The dream he had was just so warm and inviting. He didn't often have dreams like those; he wanted to stay there forever. The someone shook his shoulder again. Hot morning breath hit his face as they leaned in.

"Wake up. C'mon, we're late." It was not the voice of his uncle. Lighter, and friendlier.

Harry shot up into a sitting position. All of it was coming back now. He didn't live with his uncle anymore. But who he did live with... Harry gulped and looked for the person in his room. There he was, by the bed, a young man that seemed to be Harry's own age. Another redhead too, this one with a splattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

"Whoa there, I don't bite." He said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. Harry calmed his beating heart, this man wasn't here to hurt him.

"Who're you?" Harry asked, rubbing the rest of the sleep from his eyes and face.

"Ron Weasley. I'm a maid to, at least for now." The redhead replied.

Harry nodded and shook his outstretched hand. Ron had a firm grip. Harry gave him a small, apologetic smile. He waved his hand at the bed when Ron released it.

"Sorry about the…"

"S'alright, you did better than some of the new meat we've gotten before."

Harry really did smile then, imagining the lanky boy having to drag someone out of their bed. Maybe the job would go by faster if Ron was involved. He seemed nice, and Harry rarely got to meet the nice sort of people. His mind flickered to Charlie and Bill, they were Weasleys as well. Must be brothers.

"I'm Harry."

"Good to meet 'cha. Luna sends her regards for not being here, but something came up. She sent me instead. Hope that's okay."

"It's fine by me."

Ron gave him a goofy looking grin and they walked out into the halls together. He set a fast pace, and Harry had to jog to keep up with his long legs. Once they left the servants quarters, Ron slowed down a bit and adjusted his posture so that he looked like one of the rest. Someone you didn't want to mess with.

Harry tried to copy his pose, but was uncomfortable looking so threatening. It wasn't like they would get jumped in the halls. Right? He opened his mouth, debating whether to ask, when Ron chose that time to start his explanation of their duties.

"Mansion's split into sections. Maids are split into groups, usually two to four, but numbers are low right now - lot of folks just left. One group to a section and all that. We switch sections every week so there's no complaining. You can thank Luna for that. What else? Oh! Yeah, you're with me. My group."

They'd reached a hall with no one around, and Ron rubbed the back of his neck with a flushed face. Harry soaked in the information slowly, as if through a straw. He wanted to make sure he got everything right so he didn't disappoint Ron. It was all pretty straight forward, and relieving. People really did get to leave this place once their debts are repaid. Harry realized Ron was still peeking at him from the side of his eyes, waiting for a response to his last revelation.

"Good. I wouldn't want to be with anyone else." Harry answered honestly.

Of course, he hadn't really met any of the other maids. They'd be hard pressed to do better than Ron had though, as far as impressions go. Harry didn't think anyone had ever made him feel comfortable so quickly. The casual way Ron spoke, slumped his shoulders back, and looped around on his too-long legs when no one was around put Harry at ease. Ron's blush had, by now, escaped the confines of his face and ran down his neck. The goofy grin was back aswell and Harry couldn't help but smile back. He didn't know for sure, but he may have just made his very first friend.

They reached the third floor, with it's glossy wood paneling and high ceilings. This was where the most important people lived and worked, or so Ron said. Down another hall and he declared their destination reached. A quick trip to one of the many supply closets later and they were standing in a grand parlor, bucket full of supplies on hand. Ron looked at him, leaning on his broom handle, face suddenly serious.

"We have to get this done before a lunch meeting." He said. "Do I need to teach you how to clean?"

Harry smirked and stole his broom, making a show of sweeping the hardwood floor into efficient, neat piles of dust. He swung his hips to imaginary music and took a bow when he was done. Ron laughed and helped him with the dustpan.

The room moved around Harry as he worked. Fluffing light grey pillows, polishing mahogany coffee tables, and dusing marble mantles. He worked better with Ron than with any machine at the factory. It helped that Ron talked back, asking if he'd done things already and getting or giving feedback on particular jobs. Halfway through they made a game of throwing supplies they needed back and forth, calling out points when they caught the rag or cleaning agent.

By the time lunch rolled around, they had the whole parlor spick and span. Ron lead him back down the maze and into a small kitchen for the maids, complete with a table and chairs. They threw together some sandwiches - PB and J for Harry, Ham and Cheese for Ron - and settled down.

"What does 'for now' mean?" Harry asked.

"What?" Ron asked, bewildered at the abrupt question.

"When you said you were a maid _for now_." He clarified.

"Oh." Ron let out a chuckle. "Well, my family's had debt for three generations. First to Gryffindor, and now here. My mum thought she could pay it off by having me and my five brothers work until we're of age. But to the rest of them showed promise and they got made. I want to join up too, ya know? Just to prove I can."

Harry didn't think it was a very good idea, but he didn't say so. If Ron wanted to join the Slytherin familia it wasn't Harry's place to get in his way. He nodded a little and finished his sandwich. They went back to work, getting two offices and a bathroom done before dinner.

As they walked back out into the hall, Harry reached for the door at the end of it. The one with intricate snake carvings in the dark wood. The snake in the middle's neck was raised, poised to strike, almost as if it could jump out of the wood at any moment. Ron grabbed his hand before he could turn the knob. He pulled a rag out of their bucket to wipe away the finger smudges before dragging Harry down the hall.

"Not that one. That's the Don's office." Ron whispered to him, still appearing spooked by the mere mention of the infamous man.

When they were finishing up a modest dinner, Harry got up the nerve to make his inquiry.

"What is he like?"

Ron chugged down the last of his brandy before answering.

"The Don? I rarely see him, busy guy. He has this…" Ron waved his hands, grasping for the words. "Way 'bout him. Intimidating. Like when you're in a room with him, _you'll know._ He scares the shit out of me, to be honest."

Harry nodded, thinking about what it would be like to be in a room with the man who ran all of La Rosa. Would he be scared?

Hardly.

Harry downed the rest of his glass as well. He wasn't easily intimidated; especially not by the things heard about the man, which were probably just fairy tales anyway. He wouldn't want to meet the Boss, but that was only for pure survival's sake.

Ron showed him to a parlor on the first floor, smaller than the one they'd cleaned today. There were visible cracks and scratches in the coffee table, and everything had a well worn look. There were already two people in there, facing away from them towards the stone fireplace. Redheads, what a surprise.

"I do think Ronniekins has brought us a present Gred." The one on the left said. What the hell sort of name was Gred? Harry couldn't make heads or tails of that.

"Right you are Forge, right you are."

They turned around in on synchronized swooping motion. Gred and Forge were perfectly identical, down to the matching smirks.

"Ease up, guys, Harry's here to play too." Ron said, and Harry gave him a raised brow.

"Oh! Oh!" The twins exclaimed simultaneously. "Think you can beat the great Fred and George at poker?"

Well, at least those names made more sense. Harry didn't know if he liked their challenging tone though.

"Seemed easy last week." A new voice said.

Harry turned to find Charlie there, smirking. Next to him was Bill, looking more relaxed than Harry thought was possible for the man. Maybe he was just a serious worker?

"Bring it, you brute!" George yelled.

"You got it, explosive diarrhea!" Charlie cut back.

They exchanged playful glares as Bill shuffled a deck of cards over the table.

"Fred and George are weapon makers." Ron explained in a low voice. "Demolition mostly."

Harry held his stomach as he laughed, finally getting the joke.

"What are we betting this time?" Bill asked, his voice deep and rough.

"Food!" Ron chimed in.

"No way, Ronny." Fred said. "We-"

"Want-" George continued.

"Favors." They said at the same time.

Under any other circumstances, Harry wouldn't dare offer that up to the mischievous twins. Here though, he had a ace up his sleeve. Not literally of course, Charlie made everyone roll them up when the bet was agreed upon.

They played five rounds.

Harry won them all.

By the end, Bill was scratching his head and Charlie had his face-down on the table. Harry won four favors from each of them, not that he knew how to use them. Fred and George were whispering quietly, their heads drawn together. He'd won five from them, collectively. Though he didn't think he'd cash them in, on instinct. It was nice to win in principle. Ron threw his hands up in the air when Harry drew in his fifth pot, bringing him to a total of eight favors from his friend.

"This is ridiculous!" Ron shouted. "How are you doing that?"

Harry squirmed under the combined gaze of all the Weasley brothers.

"I guess I'm just naturally lucky." He said.

"Bull!"

"Yeah, bull!" The twins shot back. Harry's eyes moved between them, unsure of what to do. He was telling the truth, after all.

"Congratulations, Harry." Bill said anyway, placing a warm hand on Harry's head after he stood.

"There's only one way to prove this." Fred said.

"I like how you think Gred." George replied.

The two gave him lecherous stares and Harry scooted back on the faded carpet. He didn't like those looks one bit.

"Strip! Strip! Strip!" The twins yelled as they grabbed for Harry, who backed up into the corner quicker than lightning.

He managed to avoid their grabbing by an inch. Thank God for luck. Charlie held them back with a frown at Harry's uncomfortable hunched form, knees drawn in and face wary and fearful.

"Cool down guys. Harry won fair and square." Ron said, also casting worried glances Harry's way.

The twins backed off and Harry stood with a shaky grin.

"I think I'm about ready to tuck in." He said and thanked the Weasleys for a good time, even with it's uncomfortable end.

Ron walked Harry back to his room, stopping at the doorway to watch him readjust the already perfectly made bed.

"You alright mate?" Ron asked, his eyebrows drawn together over his freckled nose.

"Fine." Harry said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Ron dropped it, thankfully, and headed toward his own room. Harry gathered his stuff for the shower, ignoring the tightening in his chest. He didn't want to lie to his friend. Sometimes you had to. To survive.


	4. Chapter 4

It took three days of the same routine with Ron for something to change. In the dusky morning hours, before anyone was truly awake, Ron told Harry that they had been summoned by the Head Maid. He'd been wondering what the mysterious woman was like when he heard of her. Was she old and strict, with cracked knuckles and sagging skin? Or perhaps kind and pleasantly plump, with smiling eyes and round cheeks? Harry hoped that Luna was of a nice disposition. He didn't think he could handle working under someone like Severus for the rest of his stay.

It turned out, that Luna was not at all what he expected. Though, that wasn't necessarily bad. When Ron crowded him into the small office in the servants quarters, he thought it was a joke. Sitting in a large chair behind a light-wood desk, dwarfed by the seat's frame, was a small blonde girl. She held a pale complexion, a diamond shaped face, and a straight nose. She looked younger than his and Ron's age, and she greeted him with a dreamy smile and a thin outstretched hand.

"Hello Harry, I'm Luna. I apologize for not meeting you until now, we had a terrible nargle infestation on the second floor."

Harry took the hand after Ron raised a challenging eyebrow at him. He was nothing if not adaptable. Still, if this was really a joke, he was going to murder his friend. Luna seemed a bit too weird to be real. What even was a nargle?

"Pleased to meet you?" He said, shaking the hand and trying to keep away his suspicions in case this was real.

Luna smiled bigger, her teeth peeking out from under a thin upper lip. It didn't quite reach her eyes, which were drifting across the room. When they landed on Ron, she frowned.

"Ronald, Gred and Forge were looking for you. They said something about testing, I hope you're not sick?"

Harry looked to Ron as well. His friend's eyes went wide before he smacked a hand to his forehead.

"No! Aw, bloody hell I totally spaced. They're gonna kill me." With that statement, Ron rushed out the door. Not even a wave goodbye, he must have been really worried about what Fred and George would do.

"I hope things have been going well for you Harry." Luna said, turning her smile back to him. She still seemed distracted, but Harry got the impression that's just how she was.

"Yes, I enjoy working here with Ron. Can I ask…" He hesitated, not wanting to offend his boss or get into trouble. Luna motioned for him to continue. "Why you look so young?"

He waited for Ron to burst back in and laugh, for the joke to be revealed. All that happened was a strange shift in Luna's demeanor. Her shoulders hunched and her face became pained. Harry sucked in a breath, he'd really messed up this time.

"It's alright." Luna said, her large blue eyes were getting a bit shiny. Oh god, had he made her cry? "Bad memories, is all. I'm the boss because I've worked here the longest….most leave when their debt is repaid, or even get made into actual mafioso if they show enough promise."

"But you…?" Harry asked, cursing his own curiosity. His heart clenched at Luna's next words.

"Don't have that option."

Harry let his shock take away any other words he wanted to say. He watched Luna wipe her face and put on that far-away smile. She rambled a bit about work and a few things Harry didn't quite understand. Was a crumple-horned snorkack just imaginary? His mind was as distant as hers, lost in thought of how stupid he'd been. Getting comfortable in Riddle Manor, what was he thinking?

These past few days had gone by in a blur, laughing with Ron, actually enjoying his job for once. He'd forgotten where he was. Harry promised himself he wouldn't do so again. This was the mafia, not a bed and breakfast. The Slytherin familia _hurt_ people. Killed people. Trapped people like Luna. As he left her office, Harry wondered just how long she had been stuck here, in servitude.

Ron didn't show up by the time their duties were about to start. Though Harry was peeved, he just went about them as usual without his partner. They still hadn't changed jobs, so it was the up to the third floor and all its extravagancy. It was slower without his friend, and now with the heavy weight of Luna's story on his mind. He put all his energy from anger on her behalf into his cleaning, Rubbing away dust with a hard pressed hand, and scowling at stains.

He walked into the next office with the same sour face, only to startle at the sight of a person standing at the back window. She turned, chin-length brown hair swinging around her shoulders and stared him down with fierce brown eyes. She had a sort of beauty, with thick eyebrows and lips, a button nose and large teeth. He saw those when she gave Harry a short-lived smile. She wore the usual black suit of the mafioso, with a pressed blue tie.

"Mr. Potter. Sit down." She said, leaving no room for refusal.

A gleam came over her eyes when Harry sat down in the uncomfortable wooden chair in front of her desk. He swallowed, and asked a hesitant question.

"Am I in trouble?" He felt like he was being reprimanded by a school teacher.

She shook her head, leaning over the desk to peer into his soul. He wanted to know what he was doing here, being intimidated by a young woman his age in an office he was supposed to be cleaning. But he felt like asking to many questions was not a good idea. She was on the third floor, after all.

"Mr. Potter, there are three people who get to know things here in Slytherin." She made sure he was listening and continued, looking out the window. "One is the don. Two is the consigliere. Three is me, Hermione Granger, I help handle getting said information."

"Um." Harry cursed himself when the noise slipped out. He just couldn't help it. Why was he here?!

"You're interesting, from what I here. Questions are in order."

Harry swallowed again. He didn't want to be interrogated! This wasn't good at all!

"I'm nothing, really! I'm just...just Harry."

She smiled, amused at his protests, and then came the wave of questions.

"Really, certain folks tell me otherwise. How do you win all the games you play? Is it cheating? Or are you telling the truth, and it's luck?"

"Um, the last one." Harry said, he still didn't know how this was happening.

He'd been so careful about being inconspicuous. At least, he thought he had, but it seemed you can't keep secrets in the mafia, unless you're trained to do so. Hermione nodded, eyes still on the courtyard outside.

"Has it always been that way for you? Lucky?

"Yes! I swear!" He didn't know why he wanted to convince her so badly, but he felt it would be bad if he didn't.

Hermione turned to stare him in the eyes again. Her intensity made him squirm. For his first time being interrogated, he was doing pretty badly holding down nerves. There was no way he'd be able to prepare a lie, that must be why she blindsided him like this.

"Really?" She slowly fiddled with the cuff of her suit. He did not want to know what was under there, if anything. "You're not lying?"

"No!" He yelled almost too loudly. She studied his face for an uncomfortable amount of time, taking in all the lines and angles. Looking for any sign that he wasn't telling the truth.

"Alright. Thank you, Mr. Potter, you may go to lunch now." Hermione said.

Apparently, she saw his honesty. Harry sighed in relief. He rushed out of his seat and to the door. Stopping only when Hermione spoke one last time.

"The don has been asking after you."

When he turned to see her face, he found her back to him. Facing the window again, he couldn't see her face to discern its intentions. Not that that would give her away anyway.

"Oh." He said and threw himself through the door to escape.

Why had she told him that? Was it too be nice? Give him a heads up? Or to further rile him? Harry couldn't tell. Whatever it was, it certainly had his anxiety in overdrive. Why was the big boss looking into him? Just because he was a little lucky in some card games? It didn't make sense.

He met Ron in the kitchens for lunch. The redhead's face looked a bit worse for wear, and his normal cheery disposition was replaced by exhaustion. All Harry's anger at his friend for ditching him faded away at his friend's current state. He must have really gone through hell with his brothers.

"Mate, where you been? Fred and George had me test out their latest line of weapons all morning, but I thought you'd get here before me." Ron said when he saw Harry.

Harry waited until he'd scarfed down his lunch to answer. Trying to think of what to say. He went for honesty again, it hadn't failed him yet today.

"I got interrogated."

"What? Really? Awesome!" At Harry's incredulous look, he quickly elaborated. "I mean, at least they're interested in you, right? Could be a chance to get out of the servant's quarters!"

"I _like_ the servants quarters! I don't want the mafia to be interested in me, whatever the reason is."

Ron laughed through a mouthful of food. He must be crazy, Harry thought.

"Whatever you say, mate."

They continued in silence until lunch hour was over. By that time, the door slammed into the opposite wall as it was pushed open.

"Rejoice! The great Weasley twins have arrived!" Both Fred and George sang as they marched through the door.

"Oh dear god no!" Ron groaned."You said we were done!"

The twins shook their heads with the weird synced thing they had.

"We're not here for you, dear brother." George said, as he and Fred fixed Harry with a pointed stare.

"Me?" Harry asked, not knowing if he should be scared. By Ron's state, and the twins devious grins, the answer was yes.

"We're here to cash in-" Fred said.

"One of the favors we owe." George followed.

"Since you don't seem inclined-"

"To do so yourself."

Harry looked between them with worry. What the hell were they going to do to him? He asked as much. The twins answered by dragging him out of the kitchen and out the door. They weaved through the courtyard, passing a garden Harry wished to wander though. Anything would be better than whatever he was about to be subjected to. Finally, they stopped at their destination.

"A shooting range?" Harry said, looking at the rows of walls separating targets.

George reached into his holster, the same thing Harry had been avoiding looking at on all the Slytherin members. He pulled out a short gun, handing it over to Harry, who tried to avoid taking it. He didn't want to be that near to a weapon. But it was pressed into his hands anyway. He stared at the dangerous piece of shining metal. Guns could _kill_ people. Could kill _him_. There was no way he wanted to be around one.

"Gotta learn to protect yourself sometime Harry. Right Fred?"

"Right George. And we'll teach you how."

His wariness around the weapon lessened with the offer of protection. He worked in a dangerous place. Thoughts of Luna, trapped in servitude came to his mind. He didn't think they'd prevent him from leaving when the debt was gone, but he couldn't know for sure. Had Luna known?

It would be good to know the basics of weaponry, just in case.

"Okay, lesson start!" George proclaimed as they walked up to the range.

They taught Harry how to hold and point the gun with two hands, adjusting his posture and hand placement. Fred pointed out the parts of the gun he need to know and George taught him how to reload the clip. By the time they got to the actually shooting, Harry was stuffed full of new information he struggled to remember.

"Go!" The twins yelled as Harry squeezed the trigger.

He must have missed the target by a couple feet at least. Harry frowned at the shot with twins had made hitting the bullseye look so easy! Ugh!

"Try again!" Fred encouraged.

"Yeah, and this time don't close your eyes." George teased.

He did. Again and again and again. Harry didn't hit the target once. In fact, he seemed to get worse. He wanted to throw the hunking silver piece of crap. See if that hit the stupid target! By dinner, both twins were whispering off to the side and giving him strange looks. When they came back over, they looked just as disappointed as Harry himself.

"Maybe your luck only works with card games?" George half-joked half-asked.

"Yeah…" Harry said, his shoulders slumped.

His luck wasn't something he wanted of be reminded of. He also didn't mention what he knew to be true. That his luck had saved his life multiple times. No way of knowing where that information would end up. Harry didn't want it in the wrong hands.

"Cheer up, Harry." Fred said.

"There's always tomorrow!" George said.

Twin grins shined down on him, side by side. Harry gave a weak smile back. Little did he know that his life _would_  change tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom's in the next chapter, I promise! Anyway, hope you like interrogator!Hermione, and Luna.


End file.
